Imagine
by Fizzy Starburst
Summary: One short oneshot per day based on an "Imagine Your OTP" prompt. Larry and Petunia in every universe, including two I made up. Most will be humanized. Chapter Five - MacLarry and MacTunia (MacLarry and the Stinky Cheese Battle)
1. Elliot and Bernadette

**AN: So! Welcome to a new collection of oneshots. I'll be writing one a day for the next two weeks! I'm aiming for 500 words each. Some will be longer, some will be short. I just wanted to get more practice writing Larry and Petunia in the different verses.**

**Up first is Elliot and Bernadette. There's not a lot to go off with these two, so I apologize if your headcanon for their relationship is a total 180 from this.**

**The prompt - Imagine your OTP acting very friendly and playful/teasing with one another…. and then suddenly someone shouts out to them "so when's the wedding?!"**

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><p>Things with Elliot and Bernadette were always still very <em>new<em>, despite the fact that they'd been dating for two years. But they never felt the need to push the relationship further. They were comfortable where they were. In fact, comfortable was probably the best word to describe their relationship. It was comfortable. They felt comfortable around each other. It was simple. And the beauty was the simplicity.

Of course, ever since the adventure with Alexander and Eloise, people started looking into their relationship a little more. Now that Elliot's scaredy-cat reputation had been lost, there were a lot of other girls interested. And what, with all positive change in his life, surely things in his relationship would change too, wouldn't they?

But as they sat, amicably chatting with one another, keeping a good six inches between them at all times, it was obvious that things weren't moving in one direction or another. It befuddled almost everyone.

It looked like they were going to be stuck in those early stages until they either broke up or turned 60. But then, one day, it all changed.

The staff Christmas party for everyone who worked at the dinner theatre, and George couldn't help but notice that the usual six inches between the two young adults had diminished considerably. Their knees were touching!

Not wanting to have made the whole thing up in his head, George nudged Sedgwick and motioned towards them, hoping for confirmation that he really _was_ seeing what he thought he was seeing. Perhaps he should've asked someone else, in retrospect, because as the two were sharing what George considered a very elongated nose boop, Sedgwick laughed as he cried "So, Elliot, when's the wedding?"

Of course, that caught _everyone's _attention. As Elliot and Bernadette bonked heads as they turned to stare at Sedgwick, everyone else began staring at them. Rolling his eyes and scoffing a little, though his tone was still nothing if not convivial, Elliot replied "Oh, come on guys." trying to move the course of the conversation along. But then suddenly, Bernadette was standing up. And she was heading for the door. Uh oh. "Just…give me a minute, guys." He stated simply, as he got up to follow her out.

He ended up following her down the street, where she had sat herself on a bench. And was she…crying? "Bernadette?" he asked quietly, his voice wavering. "Is everything…you know…okay?"

She shook her head, as a crumbled up tissue she found in her coat pocket was used to subdue the last of her tears. "I'm sorry." She mumbled softly. "I just…the question was so awkward and I know they were joking and…" she realized she was rambling and quickly fixed the issue. Looking up at Elliot, she got straight to the point "If you want to dump me you can."

"What?" he asked flatly.

Eyes fluttering back down to her hands, which were folded neatly on her lap, her voice was light as she added "You don't have to stay with me anymore. It's okay. I understand."

"_I _don't understand." Elliot retaliated. He sat moved to sit next to her, once again giving her those six inches of space. "Do you…do you want to break up with me?"

"Of course not." Her eyes never left her hands. "But…you know…you're so out of my league now." She tried.

Once again, Elliot could only ask "What?"

"Back when we met, you were just cute." She laughed lightly, before adding "But look are you now. You're cute, and you're brave and confident and…and what are you still doing with someone like me?" she asked, finally lifting her head to look at him. "You can do so much better than me. And…I guess…I accept that now. So if you wanna leave, you can." She nodded a bit, as if it would help to sell her case.

His mouth started moving without his brain's consent. He couldn't help it. He was just so downright baffled by the entire situation. So before he realized what he was saying, he argued. "But I love you."

The redhead's entire body shifted towards him, green eyes blinking as she asked "You…love?"

Oh dear. "I…uhm…well…I mean…I guess…" now he was the one looking at his hands, his cheeks were red as he admitted, his voice quiet and shaking with the new revelation "Yeah, I mean, I guess I do."

The next thing he knew, her hands – cold from the December air – were on either side of his face, as she lead him into the first kiss they shared in a public place.

He had no idea that moving forward would make him feel even more comfortable than he had felt before. Being in love was a lot cozier than being comfortable.


	2. Vogue and Larry the Billionaire

**AN: Today's story is rated T due to the incredibly sexual nature of the story and the prompt itself. Nothing _happens_. But, ya know. I also wrote the entire thing in one go. Took me like a half hour or forty five minutes?**

**Prompt: Imagine your OTP the morning they have had sex. Person B decides to go shower and when they come back out, person A notices how some droplets slide down their skin and asks Person B if they can go again**

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><p>Vogue sat on the end of the king size bed absolutely restless. Morning sex riled her up more than tiring her out. In nothing but her hot pink negligee, her bare feet kicked the mattress as she swung them back and forth impatiently. Larry was still in the shower, and he <em>insisted <em>that they didn't share the shower this time, due to the fact that he had meetings to go to and what happened this morning, while lovely, was already putting him behind schedule. So, the redhead was left sitting in her sweat, waiting for her boyfriend to finish his business.

He did finally emerge, donning nothing but a towel as he went to grab the day's suit. The heroine sprung to her feet, fully intending on hopping into the shower. But then, he dropped the towel. She had rolled her eyes and muttered about how he needed to learn to pick up after himself but then…the water droplets were caressing his back muscles. And some were still rolling down his biceps. Mmm, she did _love _his biceps. So, instead of picking up his damp towel like a good little housewife, Vogue did something that was, admittedly, very selfish and stupid. The League called her decisive, but perhaps impulsive was a more applicable term.

With all the skill and force that came with being a superhero, with one swift movement he had gone from standing to lying on the bed as she straddled him. "Work can wait this once, don't you think?" she tried.

"Sweetie…" he groaned, "I just showered!"

The redhead leaned down to kiss along his jawline as she offered "You can shower again. With me this time."

He let out an irritated moan, though he wasn't sure if that was because she was so impossible to reason with or that her lips just felt so _right _against his body. "I have meetings to go to, investments to attend to…"

"And you also have a hot girlfriend who wants you. _Now_." She stated severely, now roaming her hands up and down his torso "And if you leave her like this, there's no promise you'll still have a girlfriend when you get home…" she threatened in a sing-song tone.

For a moment, he sort of forgot to respond. He just smiled up at her, his big goofy smile. How did he end up so lucky? A beautiful, intelligent woman straddling him on a Monday morning? He sure knew how to pick 'em. "I'm calling your bluff." He stated simply, before grabbing her waist and picking her up, sitting her next to him on the bed.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

He rolled his eyes, and moved to sit up, kissing her lightly before smirking "What can I say? You've rubbed off on me."

She let out a little "hmmf" before an alarm rang on his phone. "What's that?" she questioned.

"My first meeting starts in five minutes." He explained, as he reached to shut it off. He glanced back to his girlfriend, then to the phone, then back to Vogue. Smirking, the billionaire offered, "You know what? I'm late already…"

An hour later, he did finally make it into his meetings. His hair was a mess, his shirt was buttoned incorrectly, and there was lipstick on his collar, but he made it in. All things considered, he counted it as a victory.


	3. Bronwen and Earocorn

**AN: This is late and awful and stupid but hey I can cross it off my list now wooh.**

**Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP is badly injured and Person B sings to them.**

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><p>His heart dropped completely. When he woke up and had heard that she still hadn't returned to camp, he didn't think the guilty feeling could get worse. Finding her unconscious and bloody was enough to make him feel nauseous. He should've stayed, he should've walked her back, he shouldn't have flew off the handle...he knew how stupid she was, that this was bound to happen…<p>

"Bronwen!" he cried as he shook her small frame, now kneeling next to where she laid. She had to wake up. She _had _to.

She still had a pulse, which was a good sign. The ranger racked his brain, all of his survival instincts having fallen to the wayside. If she didn't make it out of this…he couldn't have her death on his shoulders. The stupid girl just needed to wake up.

And she did, finally. It was a cough. It was wheezy and probably the most disgusting sound he had ever come out of her. And it was the greatest sound he ever heard.

He wasn't able to control his urges in that moment, flinging his arms around her, pulling into what was retrospectively a much too-tight embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder as he muttered, "Thank goodness you're alive."

The girl's head was swimming. Everything hurt, she had no idea where she was, she could barely see out of her right eye, and Earocorn was hugging her. This had to be a weird fever dream. "But you said…" she tried to argue, her voice weak and faltering, as the memories the harsh words exchanged the previous night flooded back.

"Shut up." He choked out, now moving one hand to stroke her hair lightly. She was going to be okay. That's all that mattered.

The two stayed like that for several minutes – Bronwen to weak to protest and Earocorn to guilt ridden to let go. Eventually, he mumbled "We gotta get you cleaned up."

She opened her mouth to protest. It was no use. He saw how badly damaged she was, and she could pretty much only cough at this point anyway.

He stood up slowly, but then immediately bent down to pick the redhead up off the ground. He didn't ask first because he knew she was stupid enough to try to walk. He figured she was small enough to cradle like an infant, and it worked, for the most part.

Slowly, Bronwen finally worked up enough voice to mutter a small "Thank you."

Earocorn didn't say anything. He continued to the trek back to where they had made camp the night before, forcing himself to not complain about how heavy she was. There was a time and place to nag her, and now was neither. (Not that she was very heavy at all. In fact, if it wasn't for the exponential warmth that came from her body being held against his own, he would've forgot he was carrying another person at all).

The next thing Bronwen knew, she had woken up to the feeling of Toto dabbing a wet rag over the largest cut on her arms. She stirred slowly, and the boys hushed tones helped to calm her a bit. The flobbit asked her a few questions about how she was feeling, if she could remember how long ago she had fallen, and if Earocorn had been too rough with her carrying her back. The last question came as a shock, she had almost forgotten he had carried her at all, although she supposed now she'd never hear the end of it from him. She had just slept to soundedly – and while Earocorn would deny it to no end, she swore she had fallen asleep to the sounds of a lullaby.


	4. Louis and Marlee

**Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP having an elaborate collection of rubber duckies, and Person B understanding that this is objectively adorable.**

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><p>Marlee was undoubtedly his whole world. Long before he ever dreamed they'd ever be together, his life revolved around her. Parts of her he'd memorized. Her laugh - the sound, the lilt, the feeling it gave him, her hair – the dozens of different shades it became in different in different lights, the exact measurement between the kinks created by her braids when let out, and the exact fraction of a second it took her to swat his hand away when he tried to undo her braid during sexy times (oh boy, did she hate it when he tried to undo her braid). But then, she was constantly surprising him, too. Like how she wouldn't let him use the shower.<p>

At first it didn't bother him. She probably didn't want him seeing her lady beauty products. To be honest, he didn't _want _the illusion of his perfect Marlee shattered. But then he had sort of…unofficially moved in with her. And not showering was killing him. Especially since she was showering all the time – he could tell cause she would smell nice while they cuddled.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when he came home later than she did one Friday afternoon and she stepped out of the washroom with nothing but a towel on her head and a housecoat around her. "Why can't I shower?" he whined before even giving her a quick "Hello" or "I'm Home"

That caught her by surprise "Cause…" she tried to come up with a plausible excuse. She couldn't. "Cause it's my apartment, that's why!"

"I know it's your apartment." He began, rolling his eyes a little. "But you know, I spend as much time here as you do. I'm pretty much all moved in, what do I have to do to shower? Pay rent? Cause I will."

Immediately, Marlee's expression softened. "You…you want to move in? With me?"

"Well, yeah." Louis replied, shrugging a bit as his eyes moved to the floor. His voice became really quiet as he added "I mean…I love you, Marlee. Of course I want to live you."

"Once you go in my shower you might change your mind." She blurted out without really thinking.

Louis eyed her suspiciously. "Seriously, what's wrong with the shower?"

Marlee bit her lip and began fidgeting with her fingers nervously. Her eyes fluttered from Louis to the floor as she muttered "You gotta promise you won't laugh."

And without another word, she turned to lead him to the bathroom. Louis followed in anticipation. Finally, this big mystery of Marlee's shower would be answered.

She paused as she reached the bathtub. She knew that once she opened the shower curtain she would be exposing what she considered her biggest secret. It was embarrassing, this little guilty pleasure – that was quiet honestly not so little. She looked to Louis for a moment, before taking a deep breath, and pulling back the curtain.

Wall to wall ducks. Yellow ducks, pink ducks, blue ducks, ducks with hobbies, ducks with jobs and ducks who looked like celebrities. All in all, there was at least 70 rubber ducks lined up on the shelves Marlee had made for her shower. "Cute ducks." Louis noted with a smile "So where's the big shower secret?"

Marlee stared at Louis in absolute shock. "The ducks…were the…" she shook her head before trying a new approach "Don't you think it's creepy or weird that I have so many?"

"What?" Louis replied, confused. "Of course not! Marlee, it's adorable!" he cried in jubilation. Laughing a bit, he wrapped his arms around her middle, and kneeled down to rest his forehead on hers "And you know what? You kinda seem a bit more adorable now, too." He told her, before leaning foreward to peck her lips softly. "And I thought you getting more adorable was impossible."

"You really think so?" she asked, her face brightening considerably as he spoke.

Louis nodded, their faces so close it kind of made their noses rub together. "Of course! But…you know, can I shower now? It's been like a week and I'm feelin' pretty gross."


	5. MacLarry and MacTunia

**AN: Remember when I said these were going to be about 500 words? Ha. Ha. Haaaaaaa.**

**Also I've only seen MacLarry once so I apologize for any mischaracterization.**

**Prompt: Imagine Person B (if they are a guy) of your OTP going through puberty and having his voice crack a lot, _especially _when he's nervous- thus, he's too shy to talk to Person A, his crush.**

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><p>Gosh, she was pretty.<p>

MacLarry spent more time staring at MacTunia then he would've liked to admit. It wasn't a productive way to spend the day. There were so many more inventions he could've been working on! But then again…her hair was pretty. And her smile made him smile. And of course, puberty had been a kind mistress to the former barberbarian, and since puberty was also taking hold of MacLarry himself at the moment, he was hard pressed not to notice.

She may have used to been one of his tormentors, but to the young inventor, she was now the depiction of the word beauty. And he'd like to think they were friends now. She was nicer to him, and they actually _talked_ on a regular basis. Sometimes she'd even sit so close to him that their arms would brush together. Those were the times he liked best.

Unfortunately, he couldn't relish in those moment as of late. Because while puberty may have been what opened his eyes to just how radiant MacTunia was, it was also putting him through some strange changes. Most recently, his voice.

Poor MacLarry's voice would crack at least once an hour, and as a man of science, he noted that it would often crack more the more nervous he was. And being around MacTunia was more than enough to make him nervous.

So, he did the only logical thing one could do in that situation. Avoid MacTunia at all costs.

And so far, it had been working pretty well for him. If he could keep this going for what he hoped was only a few more days, everything would be fine. His voice would be back to normal and he could go back to staring at MacTunia without the fear of her turning around and seeing him. He could go back to talking to her again. He was really looking forward to that.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. He had finally been able to focus his mind on something other than the redheaded vixen, and was hard at work on one of his inventions when he felt a strong pair or arms wrap around him from behind. He could instantly tell who it was due to the butterflies in his stomach. "I haven't seen you in like, forever! Have you been hiding or something?"

"Yeah…something." His voice cracked on the second syllable. Great. He felt his cheeks go red with embarrassment.

MacTunia immediately felt her heart drop. She lowered herself to sit alongside MacLarry as she asked, her voice quivering "Were you really hiding from me? Did I hurt your feelings or something? Cause I promise I didn't mean it…"

MacLarry immediately turned to look at her. She was looking at her hands, but her face was filled with guilt. And of course, that only made _him _feel worse. Now she felt guilty because he was hiding, and he was only hiding because he was afraid of embarrassing himself. In that moment, he thought embarrassment probably felt a lot better than guilt. "No, no! Of course…" his voice cracked again. "Of course not! I just…" another crack. He took a deep breath to steady himself "My voice cracks a lot and it's embarrassing." He finally admitted. There. No more dancing around the subject.

MacTunia eyed him almost suspiciously. "Really? You think that's embarrassing? I think it's kinda...you know..." her cheeks reddened as she couldn't get the words out. She was never good with words _or _emotions. "….cute"

He choked on his own spit. Not caring that his voice cracked while only using one word, his eyes wide in shock, he asked "Cute?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "Like when you use big words and stuff. Or when your glasses kinda fall and you make the little pouty face trying to scrunch them back up. Or…" suddenly, she was silent. She stopped to look at him. His entire face was etched with confusion as he stared at her. No hint of a blush, of happiness, of any reciprocation. She was starting to wonder why she expected anything different. Her face fell as she went to push herself back up. "Forget I said anything." She mumbled.

MacLarry was still trying to process everything. The most breathtakingly beautiful girl in the village thought _he _was cute? While all of her friends were some of the most strong, handsome, manly men in the village? It had to be some kind of practical joke. But…she sounded so sincere. And if that was the payoff, it seemed like a very weak prank. And she had sworn off pranking after the whole cheese incident…

"MacTunia?" he called after her. She had already gotten a good dozen feet away from him. "I…I'm confused."

She spun around to face him "Don't be. I said forget it, okay?" she instructed her tone harsh and bitter.

"I'm just confused." He restated. "Were you making fun of me?"

"What?" she replied, blinking multiple times in confusion. The accusation hurt. "No!"

That only confused him further "So then why would you say all those nice things about me? Call me cute?"

Her voice was loud and angry as she whined "Cause you _are _cute!"

"I'm a wimpy loser!" he argued

"You're adorable!" she cried, arms in the air. "And it's a huge inconvenience."

MacLarry stumbled back in surprise. "Inconvenience?" he repeated, his voice cracking.

"Do you know how _hard _it is for me to act like I don't think it's adorable when you get talking and talking about your inventing stuff?" she challenged, before explaining. "I'm a Barberbarian! I'm not supposed to show feelings! 'Specialy not the mushy kinds."

Immediately his expression softened. He wasn't even cognitive of the fact that he has reached out and captured her hand in his. It was surprising – her hands were rough and calloused, and yet her bone structure was so thin, it felt incredibly fragile. "MacTunia, I had no idea you had mushy feelings."

Her eyes were glued to their hands, and how delicately he was holding hers. "I guess I do a good job of hiding them." She replied, her voice quiet and unsure.

Slowly, his hand was under her chin – his touch so gentle, so timid, that it almost felt like he was only ghosting the touch – as he tilted her head up look at him. "You don't have to hide 'em around me if you don't want to." His voice cracked twice in the one sentence. He didn't care.

MacTunia found herself trembling. She'd never been exposed to this level of absolute tenderness before. "I don't want to." She whispered. "But…"

"But?" he questioned.

"There's something else I do wanna do…" she began, slowly pulling herself towards him. "If you'll let me."

It took him a moment, but he caught on when her face was less than an inch from his, her eyes shut, and her lips puckered. _Oh_. He suddenly realized he had no clue how to kiss. Should he close his eyes, too? But if they both close their eyes how will they know they won't bonk heads or smash noses? Was it okay that his hand was still resting on her face?

He shook his head slightly, ultimately deciding that his biological instincts would take over. They didn't. They ended up smashing noses. "Hang on!" he cried, taking a step back to recalculate. "I can do this!" He noticed that the voice crack made her blush _and _smile at the same time. Had it always done that?

MacLarry was slow in his approach this time, placing his hands on either side of waist to give himself a sense of balance. He tilted his head to a 45 degree angle this time to avoid the nose smashing. And then slowly, carefully, he kissed her.

For all the clichés he was feeling (seeing fireworks, forgetting where he was), he realized she hit one he hadn't seen coming. MacTunia, one of the strongest people in the village, was gripping his shoulder as her legs trembled – weak in the knees.

As they parted, her entire face was red, and she was giggling uncontrollably. "Wow."

"Yeah." He breathed, grinning from ear to ear.

He paused, staring at her for a moment. He realized then that for all intents and purposes – she wasn't all that aesthetically pleasing. Her skin was blotchy, her hair was limp and stringy and her teeth were crooked. And he couldn't think of anything he'd change about her.

Gosh, she was pretty.


End file.
